Souls
by acrylic.sunsets
Summary: Soulmates AU. Kurt never had a reason to doubt the system. Sebastian never had a reason to believe in it. When they get matched as soulmates by a glitch in the CODE, it starts a chain of events for which neither of them are prepared, and sets them on a path that will leave marks far deeper than the names imprinted on their arms.
1. Chapter 1

Pain. Scorching pain. Pain like acid and hot tar and hellfire. One moment he was drowning in fire, and then suddenly, Kurt awoke with no breath left in his lungs and a searing, unfamiliar agony enveloping his forearm.

He thrashed with his sheets for a second, struggling to push himself up, and desperately lunged for his bedside light with his other hand, but his fingers couldn't seem to find the switch.

The intense pain was only building, and his body was trembling under its force; he tore up the sleeve of his pajamas to dimly see the red, puckering, skin underneath.

A strong, dull ache was punctuated by shooting pulses of profound agony. The fear ping-ponging in his chest kept tears from forming in his eyes. All he could do was rock back and forth, staring at the bubbling, red-raw skin of his arm, body tensing for the bolt of pain that he knew was coming again in a few seconds.

He was going to pass out soon. He was woozy and unsteady, his breath was coming in short, shallow gasps, and still the pulses of pain continued, like torturous clockwork through his arm. He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing his father was there, wishing his mother was there, wishing it would just stop.

This was not how he wanted to die; he wasn't ready to leave, alone and without any goodbyes or warning. Not in the middle of an empty night with a staring, indifferent moon.

The seconds trickled by, however, and he was still alive, and aware, and then finally, the next bolt of pain was the tiniest bit less intense, and the one after slightly less again, and Kurt, feeling faint with relief, could convince himself that the torture was finally ending.

He continued rocking back and forth on his bed as the spasms of pain slowly faded away, each of his breaths tasting like elixir. When the pulses stopped completely, only a low, thrumming ache was left in his muscle. The skin, no longer puckering, still looked red and irritated by the soft illumination of the moon, and almost blackened at some parts.

Kurt allowed himself to relax against his pillows, and now that it seemed everything was alright, felt the tears of terror and shock begin to roll down his cheeks.

Tentatively, he lifted the fingers of his other hand to the damaged skin, gently tracing over it to feel the disfigurement. His fingers stumbled onto thin lines that were slightly raised against the rest of his skin, and as he followed them, over and over again, he realized they were writing.

The feeling that something was horribly wrong shot through him, and when he finally turned on his lamp to see the name that was now written on his arm, he knew he had been right.

* * *

People never received exact timelines.

They only received approximate estimates of when they would learn the names of their soulmates, based on certain statistical analyses, database searches, adaptive sorting, and predictive models. The names of their soulmates would be revealed to them at the exact moment that the CODE decided that compatibility and probability of success were optimized, but that moment was always slightly variable, based on minor fluctuations or deviations from predicted life patterns.

All of this had been explained to them in their _Introduction to Computational History_ class, and Kurt had privately always been of the opinion that, in addition to being deadly dull, it was also a very impersonal, emotionless way of describing how to find the love of your life.

He understood that the process of being matched with a soulmate had to do with unromantic things like numbers and models and calculations, but the ultimate goal of soulmate matching was contentment and harmony, and the teachers who taught the course refused to acknowledge that. Instead, they seemed to prefer robotically explaining the ideology behind the eight basic CR divisions (Compatibility Requirements) at the core of every soulmate matching.

_Introduction to Computational History (_called _Com-Hist _by students_) _was a course offered in every school, at multiple grades, and was designed to teach everyone the major advances wrought during and after the Informational Revolution.

What the steam-powered engine had been to the Industrial Revolution, the CODE was to the Informational Revolution. The global population, teachers explained, had for a very long time been on the brink of an Informational Revolution, but had been missing a vital catalyst to begin the process of reshaping the world's data systems. The trick, as it turned out, was not artificial intelligence, as many people had thought, but rather a solution to big data, to that major influx of information sitting on servers in large, unorganized heaps.

This grand solution, the one that finally brought the Informational Revolution to fruition, was to mass-compile and organize the world population's data into a single system, and a system that was designed to not only organize it, but also analyze it. It was developed by a prestigious team of computer scientists, engineers, and mathematicians, and it was called the CODE – the **C**omputational and **O**rganizational **D**atabase of the global **E**thernet.

_Com-Hist _always spent a large chunk of time teaching them about the significance and impact of the CODE – because of the CODE, a bespectacled old lady would tell them, the world today had improved diplomatic relations, better infrastructure, lower crime rates, and, most famously, the introduction of a worldwide soulmate system.

Kurt didn't pay may much attention in his junior year _Com-Hist _class, but that was because aside from more details on the basic algorithms, it was very similar to the versions of _Comp-Hist_ they'd all had to take in first grade, and then again in third, and then again in fifth, sixth, and eighth.

It was a required and standardized course. Since the CODE was an immense, unavoidable part of everyone's lives, there was a general consensus that ample resources and information about it should be provided to students and anyone else who wished to learn.

The only problem with that idea was that middle and high school students weren't particularly interested in being taught the matching algorithms or sorting procedures for finding hypothetical soulmates. Rather than listening to the tedious, jargon-heavy lectures, Kurt preferred to daydream about the life he would lead with his actual soulmate.

The time that Ms. Crup spent describing adaptive classification techniques was the time Kurt spent picturing the cozy interior of a chic New York apartment, the intimate moonlit dinners on their balcony, lazy mornings of warm embraces in bed, hours of running his fingers through dark, soft curls.

Kurt knew that he was lucky, because unlike most other people his age, he actually knew who his soulmate was.

True, it wasn't an official match, as he didn't have a name imprinted on his arm yet, but if Kurt was certain of anything in this world, it was that Blaine Anderson was his one, true soul-mate.

Kurt just knew. He knew it in his bones, in his blood, in his heart of hearts. He didn't need to fill out the CR forms they had to update every half-year. He didn't need the biochip implanted in his forearm at birth to upload information about him into the CODE. He didn't even need to see a name imprinted onto his skin. He just knew it was Blaine, knew it with the certainty he knew the sun was going to appear every morning and disappear every night.

And it was a relief, too, because if he didn't know, he would have had to spend a long time waiting to find out – the CODE gave the estimate that he would only be given his soulmate name around the age of 30 (give or take a few years in either direction).

He wasn't sure if Blaine knew yet that they were soulmates; they were only friends, and he had never broached the subject with him (long-term relationships were advised against before a soulmate match was revealed). But they finished each other's sentences, and they knew each other's coffee orders, and they could sit in the Lima Bean with twenty minutes of silence and still have it be comfortable, and goddammit, Kurt just knew Blaine was his soul-mate.

His "happily ever after" was right in front of him, and he was willing to wait until he was thirty to admit it, so long as he could still have Blaine in his life. After years of being afraid he was never going to match with anyone, he was happy and grateful and secure in the knowledge that he had someone, for now and forever.

That all changed the night he received his soulmate mark, thirteen years ahead of schedule.

* * *

Kurt wasn't sure what one was supposed to apply to a healing soulmate mark.

From what they had been taught in _Com-Hist_, there wasn't supposed to be any pain involved in getting a mark aside from a slight burning or stinging. When the biochip activated nerves in the arm and skin in order to imprint the name, it was meant to release numbing and soothing agents as well.

What he'd had last night had been transcendentally painful, more painful than any broken bone or injury he'd ever had. Clearly, something had gone horribly wrong in his imprinting.

However, asking someone about it would mean he'd also have to reveal that he'd received his mark, and, considering the name currently sitting on his arm, he wasn't certain he wanted anyone to know yet. He could feel it in his bones that there'd been a grave mistake, but part of him was still hoping that it would disappear of its own accord, and he could pretend that it had never happened.

Because _Sebastian Smythe _was just not an option.

Not in any universe, not in any life. Sebastian Smythe was not meant to be his soulmate – was not meant to be anyone's soulmate. If he wasn't describing in grotesque details his most recent sexual encounters, he was insulting anything and everyone that entered his sphere of contact. Kurt had never once allowed Sebastian to win a mouth-off with him, but he knew there were many other boys who were too scared to defend themselves. If there was one thing Kurt hated with a passion, it was a bully.

In a sense, Kurt was grateful that it was Sebastian's name. If it was anyone else, he'd be less certain. He might have begun to question himself, wonder if he'd made a mistake. As it was, though, Kurt was more convinced than ever that Blaine Anderson was his soulmate, and even if he wasn't, was at least confident that Sebastian Smythe was the last person on this earth with whom he wanted to spend his life. There was a glitch in the CODE – that was all. And either it would right itself, or in a few days he would report it, and everything would be fixed.

As Kurt carefully pulled his dress shirt over himself, he was glad for the thick protection of the Dalton uniform. When he'd first transferred from his old school, it had hidden his landscape of bruises, and now, it hid and cushioned his sore, traitorous forearm.

He didn't share any classes with Sebastian until after lunch, and that gave him time to think about how to broach the situation, assuming there even was one (the fact that it was a glitch might have meant that Sebastian hadn't gotten his mark).

As he was settling into a contemplation of his best course of action, the intercom buzzed, interrupting first period.

"Students 32561 and 32742 to Ms. July's office, students 32561 and 32742 to Ms. July's office immediately."

Kurt's heart began to beat double-time at hearing his student number announced. He prayed that the second number wasn't Sebastian's but knew deep down that it was. He stood up reluctantly, gathering his things slowly as the class half-heartedly watched him.

Walking down the empty hallway gave him a strange sense of foreboding, like the calm before the apocalyptic storm. The dull ache in his arm was still there, reminding him of the horror of the night, and he shifted his shoulder bag to his other arm, rubbing gently at his skin through the blazer.

When he arrived at the front office, he was sent through immediately by a stern-looking receptionist to Ms. July's room, where Sebastian Smythe was already sitting in one of the two chairs, reclined into its back with his legs crossed.

"Ah, Kurt Hummel, please sit."

Ms. July was sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the desk, in what Kurt guessed was a burgundy cashmere sweater. Her blonde hair was swept into a side chignon as usual, and her black-rimmed eyes had the intensity of a cat's. He'd once been called into Ms. July's office to retake a CR form that had not been properly logged, and he had been both in awe of her and intimidated by her at the same time.

Kurt placed his bag gently to the side and sat down gingerly in the remaining chair facing Ms. July's desk.

"Now," Ms. July began. She was looking at two tablet screens before her, on one of which Kurt could vaguely make out his school picture.

"You both received your soulmate marks last night. May I see them?"

Kurt felt caught off-guard with the lack of preamble and looked over to Sebastian's reaction. His face was completely expressionless as he began to tug off his blazer, laying it neatly on the chair's back, and then rolled his left sleeve up to his elbow, revealing perfectly smooth and undamaged skin imprinted with Kurt's name in elegant, cursive script.

Seeing his name imprinted on someone else's arm sent an unexpected shiver down his spine, even if it was Sebastian's. The idea of someone being marked as his soulmate was something Kurt couldn't help but find mesmerizing, despite the circumstances.

"Kurt, would you mind?"

Tentatively, Kurt pulled off his blazer, attempting to neatly fold it for several seconds until it slipped to the floor. His goddamn hands were shaking, and he hated it, hated how calmly everything had been done by Sebastian, how little pain he'd probably felt when he was being imprinted.

"There's no need to be nervous, Kurt," Ms. July said gently, and that just made it all the worse. He felt his cheeks reddening furiously, and he struggled at the button of his sleeve until it finally came undone and he was able to tug it up.

Ms. July's eyebrows raised, and Sebastian hissed with a sharp intake of breath.

"What'd you do, try to burn it off?" he asked, staring at Kurt's mottled flesh, across which Sebastian's name was visible.

"May I?" Ms. July softly said, extending her hand. Kurt reluctantly placed his forearm in it, letting her examine it closely. "I see," she finally murmured, and allowed him to return it to his side.

"I'm afraid there's been a mistake," she said.

"Oh, thank God!" Kurt exclaimed unwittingly, feeling the purest sense of relief he'd ever felt. He looked over to see if Sebastian was experiencing the same euphoria, but instead caught a pained scowl crossing his face before an expressionless look took over once again.

"As you have probably learned, no computer is flawless, and all large data systems have glitches, even ones as sophisticated as the CODE. I'm afraid your painful imprinting," she nodded at Kurt, "was a side effect of that glitch. Imprinting is meant to be painless, causing minimal alteration to the skin, but this was clearly not the case for you. We can only apologize for that."

Kurt nodded to show understanding, feeling heady from the relief.

"You are meant to be matched at around the age of thirty; the CODE determined that would be the optimal timing for your soulmate. A glitch in the system has prompted the imprinting to occur much earlier, and clearly, there were side effects with your biochip owing to this. The skin should mainly heal, but there might be some light scarring."

"Will it affect how my soulmate's name will show up?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt could tell that Sebastian had turned to look at him, though he couldn't tell with what expression.

Ms. July stared at him blankly for a moment. "I'm sorry?"

"The – the name," Kurt said, with a sinking feeling in his stomach. "When the right name shows up, will it…be…" He trailed off as Ms. July began to primly shake her head.

"I'm sorry, Kurt, but you've misunderstood. The_ timing_ is the mistake. Your soulmate is still Sebastian."

Kurt felt the full weight of disappointment settle on him, and a lump immediately formed at the back of his throat.

"I – no, I don't think so. I'm fairly sure that…" Kurt's voice was unsteady and uncertain as he tried to stumble through an explanation of how Sebastian was most definitely not his true love. He stared unhappily down at his arm, at the black, graceful lettering, and suddenly felt a droplet of hope.

"I – I'm sorry, but I think it's the wrong Sebastian," Kurt said, looking up at Ms. July. "See, here," he thrust his arm towards her, "Sebastian's spells his name with an 'a' at the end, but this says _Sébastien_, see, with an 'e' at the end, and there's that little tic at the start." Kurt sat back triumphantly. The CODE would never have a misspelled soulmate name. It was the wrong Sebastian, that was all, and Ms. July was probably about to laugh and –

"It's French," Sebastian broke in flatly. "I was born in Paris. That's how my name was logged on my birth certificate." Kurt thought that Sebastian meant for his voice to be emotionless and cold, but he could hear a distinctly bitter edge to it.

"The CODE has extensive files on every person, Kurt. There is no way that we would have been able to confuse the identity of your soulmate," Ms. July added, shutting off the two tablets in front of her.

So that was that. There was no mistake, or at least if there was, no one was planning on admitting to it.

"Now, soulmates matches are rarely done this young, and as you both understand, yours was meant for much later. That being said, the two of you should not in any way feel obligated to immediately enter into a relationship. Even in normal matches, soulmates oftentimes choose to have a trial period before beginning to date. You are more than welcome to remain as friends and allow it to progress more naturally. And may I say, in your case, that it might even be the more prudent option."

Ms. July looked meaningfully between the two of them, and Kurt felt his cheeks begin burning. He decided he'd rather die than look at Sebastian at that instant, though he was fairly certain he'd see the same blank stare he'd worn through the entire meeting.

"Now, for matches this young, the procedure is to always provide counseling and guidance, and for now, I will be the person providing it. If either of you have any questions or worries, things you would like to discuss either together or separately, do not hesitate to reach out to me. Soulmate matching, particularly when you are unprepared for it, can be a painful and tricky process, but so long as you have faith in the CODE, you will understand that everything is for your ultimate happiness in the end."

"When does the CODE say you'll match, Cassandra?"

It took Kurt a few seconds to realize that Sebastian was talking to Ms. July; he'd never heard her addressed by her given name before. The resentful edge to his voice was still there, but now it was also laced with mocking and contempt.

"I'm sorry, Sebastian," Ms. July said after a beat of surprise, "but I don't discuss personal matters at – "

"But you're discussing our personal matters, aren't you? So, what about you, Cassandra? When is yours set for? Thirty-five? Forty? I'd hope it's soon. You're getting a bit long in the tooth, if you don't mind me saying."

Kurt barely held back an audible gasp. To terrorize Dalton's student populace was one thing, but to speak so disrespectfully to Dalton's assistant principal and CODE overseer was another matter entirely. Did the boy have a death wish?

Ms. July stared intently at Sebastian. Her expression, rather than being angry, as Kurt would have imagined, was instead incredibly tranquil – deadly so, Kurt couldn't help but think. As the silence stretched, he was again reminded of the calm before the storm. Sebastian held her gaze with an air of nonchalance, as if all he'd done was remark on the weather.

Kurt was about to begin talking about the weather himself, if only to break the tension, when Ms. July finally spoke.

"Thirty-eight, actually. So it'll be soon, I expect," she replied, stacking the two tablets and sliding them into a drawer on her right.

"Well, here's to hoping it'll be in time for a June wedding," Sebastian said sardonically, pushing himself up from the chair and slinging his blazer over his arm. "Anything else?"

Ms. July opened a drawer to her left and pulled out some papers. "In case you'd like more information on soulmate matching or general procedures, these pamphlets have – "

"I think I'll pass," Sebastian said, cutting her off. Standing up, he towered over her and Kurt, and he was staring down at Ms. July with a contemptuous expression.

Instead of reprimanding him, Ms. July simply nodded.

"Kurt?" She proffered the pamphlets to him. Kurt looked uncertainly at Sebastian, who was staring at him with a slight scowl.

"I, uhh… thank you," he muttered, sliding the stack of pamphlets across the desk and into his messenger bag, blushing intensely again. He heard Sebastian's snort.

"Can we go?"

Ms. July glanced down at her Co-phone as it blinked green. "Yes, Sebastian, Kurt, you are free to go."

Sebastian unceremoniously shoved his way past Kurt's messenger bag and, swinging the door open, strode out. Kurt stared at Ms. July for a second, frozen, before scrabbling for his things and hurrying towards the door. "Thank you," he threw over his shoulder as he rushed through the front office and into the empty hallway, where Sebastian was just about to turn a corner.

"Hey! Hey! Sebastian! Would you – wait up, please?"

Sebastian paused mid-step and seemed to be deliberating whether or not to keep walking, but ending up turning around to face Kurt, who caught up to him breathlessly.

"I think – look, no offense, but I think they've made a mistake."

Sebastian gave a bitter laugh. "How could I possibly take offense at you almost crying tears of relief?"

Kurt studied Sebastian's expression, which was perfectly casual, but betrayed a sense of insincerity, and for the first time he felt a swirl of guilt. He hadn't expected Sebastian to be offended by Kurt being against the match, but now, as he imagined their positions switched, he couldn't quite fathom how horrible it would feel if his soulmate had tried to get rid of him. Sebastian had actually reacted quite well, considering.

Kurt wanted to sink into the floor. "Look, Sebastian, I – "

"Of course, it's a mistake, Powerpuff," Sebastian interrupted him, shoving his hands into his pockets and surprising Kurt again.

Instead of relief, he felt a spark of irritation. "Well, then - why didn't you say anything about it back there?"

"I'm not talking about our match, Casper. This whole fucking _system_ is a mistake. It's all complete bullshit. There are no such things as soulmates, or compatibility ratings, or whatever other names they come up with. It's all just bullshit they feed to us to keep everyone happy and distracted. You don't actually believe all this crap, do you?"

"I – what do mean, do I believe it? Of course, I believe it, the soulmate system is – is – I mean, it's a real thing. It – it works, people are happy."

Sebastian stared at him, eyes widening in bitter disbelief. "God," he breathed, "you actually think it's all real."

Kurt felt his guards rise like they normally did with Sebastian, but he felt off-balance. Usually he knew that the venom Sebastian spewed was just hot air, but the things he was saying now seemed to be sincere.

Sebastian shook his head, almost with disappointment. "You're so fucking naïve," he said, frowning. "And to think, I actually thought you might be one of the smarter ones. Let me guess, you think we're a mistake because you wanted to get matched with Anderson?"

Kurt gaped at him, mouth opening and closing, unsure of how to respond to a person he barely knew being privy to one of his most-guarded secrets.

"I – I – "

"Look, Hummel, I never plan on having a soulmate, you understand that? I don't want a partner, I never have, and I never will, not when I can already get sex whenever I want. I have needs, I've found ways to take care of them, and settling down for some monogamous, picket-fence relationship is just not on my to-do list."

Kurt felt as if Sebastian had just placed a puppy in front of him and shot it. He couldn't wrap his mind around how Sebastian could reject the entire idea of a soulmate. He must have known he would get matched one day, that he would eventually be paired with someone.

"What were you planning on doing when you got matched, then?" Kurt said numbly. "You were going to get matched with the love of your life and then just – just ignore them?"

Sebastian gazed at Kurt with something that now looked closer to pity than to contempt.

"You – you really don't understand, do you?"

"Understand what?" Kurt said, almost desperately. He felt like he was missing some obvious piece of the puzzle that Sebastian had taken for granted years ago, and he needed to know what it was.

Sebastian stared at him with a mixture of indecision and frustration. "Just – it doesn't fucking matter," he finally said, hitching his bag higher on his shoulder and turning to leave.

"No, wait," Kurt said, feeling like nothing at all had been resolved. "We're still – we're matched, officially. What – what are we supposed to do?"

Sebastian frowned. "What do you mean? I don't want a soulmate, and you don't want _me_ as your soulmate. As far as I can tell, neither of us wants to be in this. So, why don't you just keep on eye-fucking Blaine, and I'll keep on fucking my way through Ohio."

"But – but don't you want them to admit it's a mistake? We need – we need evidence of some kind, you know, and we need to go to them, because if they don't take our names off, that means we don't get our actual soulmates' names, and – "

"Hummel, I couldn't care less if it was your name or Elton John's on my arm – it doesn't fucking mean anything. You want to get an upgrade, fine, but that's your problem, not mine. Don't drag me into your Cinderella-syndrome delusions, alright? Deal with it on your own, Princess."

And with that, Sebastian turned on his heel and disappeared behind the corner, and Kurt, listening to his steps fade away as he stood alone in the hallway, felt more abandoned than he had in a long time.

If anything, though, he was convinced now more than ever that Sebastian's name wasn't meant to be sitting on his arm. Someone who slept around for fun, someone who insulted people with no provocation, someone who didn't even _want _a soulmate – that wasn't the person with whom Kurt was meant to spend the rest of his life.

He was going to take Sebastian's advice, though. He _was_ going to deal with this on his own. He was going to get the evidence, build his case, convince Ms. July or whatever official he needed to, and, if it was the last thing he did, he was going to get the right soulmate's name on his arm.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Hello everyone, here's the next part to the story. The romance will be quite slow-burn, but we'll get there eventually, I promise. Thanks to everyone who's been reading, and, as always, reviews are greatly appreciated!**

* * *

By the time Kurt returned to class, it was already five minutes into second period. Kurt's usual seat, to the left of Blaine, was still open, and he slipped into it as Mr. Hines began collecting quizzes.

"Hey," Blaine whispered to Kurt as he pulled a notebook out of his messenger bag, "what were you called down for?"

Kurt, still lost in his own plans and the events of the morning, jumped slightly at Blaine's words before smiling sheepishly. But the fact that Blaine had his student number memorized provided the first comfort to Kurt that he'd had all morning.

"It was, umm, a problem with logging my CR form last month," he lied quickly.

"Again?" Blaine asked. "Didn't that happen to you last year, too?"

Of course, Blaine would remember. Because that was just the way Blaine was – he actually listened when Kurt talked, was genuinely interested in what he had to say.

"Guess I just have bad luck with those newfangled word-box gizmos," Kurt joked, taking out his pencil and keeping his eyes down. He hated lying to Blaine, but he didn't want him to know about his matching. Not until he'd had a chance to sort everything out.

"Who was the other student?"

"What?"

"Wasn't there someone else called up with you?"

"Oh, uh, I didn't know him," Kurt muttered, and was relieved when Mr. Hines arrived at the front of the room to begin speaking.

Kurt floated through the rest of his classes without really paying attention to any of them.

Just when his mind wandered to the new jacket he'd wanted to wear that weekend, or he managed to tune into the lecture, he would shift in a way that made his shirt rub uncomfortably against his mark, or he would catch sight of Blaine, and everything would come rushing back to him in a heated panic.

He knew he wouldn't make it through an entire lunch with Blaine without giving something away, so when fourth period ended, he begged off his absence by saying he needed to study in the library. Instead, he snuck into his dorm room and just lay on his bed, staring alternately at the ceiling and at his forearm.

_Sébastien Smythe, _the black lettering read. The mottled skin around it was already starting to heal, forming ugly callouses and welts, almost as if it was solidifying the writing into permanence. The name seemed to be etched so definitively into his skin; if pain in any way corresponded to the sanctity of a bond, then he and Sebastian were indelibly linked for life. The thought unnerved and terrified him, and he had to calm himself with the same words he'd been repeating to himself all day – it was all a mistake; he would sort everything out.

When he forced himself out of his room to go down to sixth period, he half-expected Sebastian to have skipped class, but he was sitting in his normal seat, in the center of the room, slouched against his chair back while he twirled a pencil in his hand. For all the world, he looked like nothing remotely odd had happened to him today, as if he was just on the cusp of boredom. Kurt envied him his ability to hide his emotions so well; as someone who always let his show too easily, it annoyed Kurt that Sebastian could play unaffected so well.

He made for his usual seat, towards the left front of the class. As he passed near Sebastian's desk, his messenger bag accidentally dragged his papers to the floor, and he mentally cursed the universe for hating him.

"Careful with your pixie dust, there, Tink," Sebastian said in his usual drawl, elbow draped over the seat back, as Kurt hurriedly knelt down to gather the papers into a semblance of a stack.

As he lifted his head, he found Sebastian had leaned toward him, eyes glinting with his usual smarm and malice. "Ever heard of the expression, 'while you're down there…'?" he whispered.

Kurt blushed harshly and stared at Sebastian in disbelief. He couldn't believe he was treating Kurt like afternoon entertainment, despite everything that had happened this morning. It would have been one thing if it was business as usual, something similar to his standard, caustic remarks. But what he'd just said was suggestive and degrading and unpleasant, and Kurt had no reply in his arsenal to perverse flirtation.

And then seeing the triumph in Sebastian's eyes, Kurt felt a flash of understanding. He wasn't doing this despite what had happened that morning. He was doing this _because _of it. Things weren't going to continue as normal between him and Sebastian, Kurt suddenly knew. He'd thought their relationship was strained before, but it seemed that some kind of irreparable damage had been done this morning, and Sebastian didn't seem like the type to let bygones be bygones.

_You thought it was bad before, _his expression seemed to say, _wait until I really start paying attention to you._

Kurt spent that entire period either feeling or imagining a hole being burned into the back of his head. At one point, he chanced a look back to find Sebastian gazing disinterestedly at his phone, though the nonchalance seemed slightly posed.

His last period of the day (where thankfully there was neither Sebastian nor Blaine) was _Com-Hist_, and though there was no class he wanted to be in less, he decided that today, he would actually listen. If he was going to start building a case about his incorrect matching, he should probably start trying to understand the mechanics behind the system a bit better.

Twenty minutes into Ms. Crup's explanation of the Soulmate System's merging of four different sorting algorithms and their intercommunicative cross-checking with the Compatibility Requirement data banks, however, and Kurt had all but given up on the idea. Short of spending four years getting a degree in computer science and direct experience with the CODE, Kurt didn't think he would be able to grasp enough of the process to make a technical argument in his favor.

He spent the rest of the period ignoring Ms. Crup's quavering monologue and trying instead to come up with a new approach. When lawyers were trying to present a case in court, there were certain tactics they used to convince the judge and jury. Expert testimonies were one. But _witness_ testimonies were another – Kurt needed to find other people who had experienced the same thing as him, maybe even people who had been able to get the mistake fixed. Ms. July said the CODE had glitches – there was no way he was the only one that had experienced them.

When Ms. Crup announced the end of class by assigning reading in _An Introductory Review of the CODE_, Kurt nearly jumped out of his chair. By the time he got to his dorm room, his mind was already racing with possibilities and ideas, imagining himself sitting down with Ms. July as soon as tomorrow and laying out his case with her.

Locking the door and sitting down on his bed with crossed legs, Kurt pulled his CODE laptop out of his bag and unlocked it by touching the biochip in his forearm against the top of the screen. For a moment, he was worried that the damage to his skin would have interfered with the connection, but his screen blinked to life within a second.

He opened the CODE-enabled search engine, his fingers hovering over the keyboard in momentary contemplation.

The window began popping up suggestions below his search box, all personalized to him.

_Another readthrough of Jane Eyre?_

Kurt liked rereading _Jane Eyre _every year or so, and evidently the CODE had realized that it had been almost a year since his last time. Other suggestions included _A souffle recipe? _because his father had searched for recipes on his own CODE-enabled laptop while they were baking together. Going off the main interests on his father's profile, the CODE had (correctly) guessed that the search hadn't been for his father, and had projected the information on the most likely nearest relation.

Below those were also _Newest 'Housewives' episode, What to do with old denim, _and _How to deal with an unexpected match._

Kurt stared at the last suggestion. He should've known that his soulmate match would already be logged in the CODE, but every time he saw confirmation of his imprinting, it made him feel like it was all becoming permanent and unfixable.

Ignoring the suggestions, Kurt took a deep breath and typed in _Soulmate mistake_ to the search box and hit enter.

Immediately, results appeared on his screen.

They were almost all articles or pop-ups about the most recent season of _The Bachelor_.

_The Bachelor _was a show where an unimprinted man (near the estimated age of matching) would try to guess which woman out of a selected group was his true soulmate, eliminating them one by one. Once his guess had been made, the CODE would activate the biochips to imprint both him and his soulmate.

Most of the time, the guesses were correct. A few times, a clearly conflicted bachelor deciding between two last women chose the wrong one. In the last season, however, to the dismay of the audience, it had turned out the very first woman he'd eliminated had been his soulmate, and they'd had to bring her back onto the final episode for the imprinting to take place. Supposedly, they were now happily in love and living with each other in Northern California.

Either way, _The Bachelor_ gaffe was not the 'soulmate mistake' that he was looking for, so he tried refining his search to '_Soulmate mistake incorrect matching.'_

This still brought up news pieces about _The Bachelor_, including a few theorists conjecturing that he'd purposely sent his soulmate home for media attention. In addition to those, however, there were now some more interesting results coming up:

_"__Why do I feel like I have the wrong soulmate?"_

"_Ten tips to fix your soulmate match."_

_"__I spent ten years living apart from my soulmate, and now we're married and happier than ever."_

With growing frustration as he clicked and skimmed through each of them, Kurt was realizing that none of them were actually about incorrect matching – rather, they were all detailing difficult starts to soulmate relationships, along with either helpful tips or stories of the eventual happy resolutions. He clicked through to the next page of results, and the one after that, and after that, but it seemed that there were lines and lines of these kinds of stories – all of them about how the CODE had actually matched them correctly, and how grateful they were for the soulmate system.

It was probably on the twenty-fifth page of results – Kurt was clicking through them more out of desperation than actual hope now – when one link caught his eye. It was titled _To Match or Not to Match_, on a website called _Blogalicious_, and it was an uncharacteristically plain title compared to the other clickbait clogging the page.

With little expectation, Kurt clicked on it and was taken to a bright pink, amateurish-looking blog post, dated two years back, by someone who called herself Ophelia.

"Oh. My. God.," the blog post started. "This week was, like, a total s***show. Not only did G- tell me that she's decided she's going to the dance with T-, but I'm pretty sure that my mom is trying to kill me from embarrassment. You'll never even guess what she did, but that's a story for a different post – TBC, you guys, this one's just a quickie.

"So, I found out that my gorgeous algebra teacher Ms. P. was matched last week, and oh my God, her match is a complete schlemiel, I mean ugly schnauze, sideburns, beer belly, the works. I feel so sorry for her - they look so weird together, it almost makes me not believe in soulmates anymore."

Kurt noticed that the last part of the sentence was underlined.

"I **absolutely **need for my soulmate to be a total stud, like full guns and that dreamy Gosling look and everything. If I get someone who looks like a dorkus, I will genuinely lose my s*** – do you people understand me? I am not settling for some reject soulmate – if the system tries to match me up with some uggo, I will fight them on it!

"Oh my God, deep breaths, deep breaths. I'm better now, guys. Okay, so this was, like, totally cathartic, and you are all the best, and I will give you a full run-down of what my mother the Hun did this week in my next post, okay, guys? Leave comments, per ushe, and if you want something fun, totally click on the link below, kay?

"See ya, love ya! Kisses.

"Ophelia."

Kurt stared blankly at the post after he finished reading it. It sounded like it was written by a hormonal fourteen-year-old girl.

Except…it sounded_ too_ much like it was written by a hormonal fourteen-year-old girl, and Kurt couldn't help but notice that the grammar, despite all of the slang, was impeccable.

And then there was the matter of the suggestive underlines, which could simply have been thoughtless emphasis – or a calculated phrasing.

Kurt wondered if after hours of searching he was finally starting to lose his mind; it felt like he was entering into 'crazy conspiracy theorist' mode, and clicking on the link, full of random number-letter combinations, was probably not something a computer expert would advise doing.

Kurt scrolled down to see if there was anything interesting in the comments – there wasn't – and then went back up to consider the link.

With sudden resolution, he decided he'd invested too much time into the search to give up on it now. If the computer crashed, it crashed. He wasn't particularly keen on the idea of doing his biology homework, anyhow.

With a deep breath and a dramatic pause, he clicked … and was taken to the exact same page as before.

He stared at it, nonplussed. A try at refreshing it didn't change anything.

Kurt shook his head and closed his eyes in an attempt to clear out a forming headache. He'd been staring at his screen for too long.

With a deep breath, he started rereading the post, trying to pinpoint what exactly had made it sound so suspicious to him in the first place.

"Oh. My. God. This week was, like, a total s***show. Not only did L- tell me that she's decided she's going to the dance with S-"

Kurt stopped.

He was fairly certain that the two letters of her friends had been G, and T, because he had nicknamed them Georgina and Thomas in his head. Except now they weren't.

He scanned through the rest of the post, not finding any other changes, and then, with a deep breath, clicked the link again.

This time, it was still L and S, but further down, it was now Ms. A. that was the gorgeous algebra teacher.

He clicked on the link a third time to find that it was now her dad that was embarrassing her to death.

Clicking on the link a fourth time, he was suddenly taken to a black page with a small box to type in the center.

Kurt examined the page for a few seconds. The entire setup seemed incredibly suspicious and untrustworthy, with a hint of illegality. But at the same time, he was fairly certain that this was the closest he had come to actually finding something useful – or at the very least, interesting.

With a tilted head as he mentally worked it out, Kurt typed 'GTPMOMLSADAD,' and then hit enter. Immediately the screen expanded into another blog post, except this one had an entirely black background, and the writing was much sparser.

"Hey, check out these cool vids…" the first line read, and following it were around ten lines of links.

"And here are some more: ", came below it, again with a pile of links directly after.

"Books are stupid, here are some cool blogs to read instead: ", with the same barrage of links attached.

Kurt took a deep breath, and, with slightly trembling hands, clicked on the first one.

* * *

"You know it's weird, that you always shower so late."

Kurt was stopped in his tracks by the unexpected voice. It took a second for him to survey the hallways around him before he saw the figure leaning against a door to his right.

He was beginning to dread hearing that voice.

"Sebastian," Kurt said in a clipped tone, as a means of greeting. "You're out late as well, aren't you?"

He watched as Sebastian pushed lazily off of the door and began to stroll towards him. As he entered further into the hall light, Kurt could see that he was dressed in dark jeans, a blue polo, and a navy leather jacket, all of which hung on him sloppily. His hair was mussed, and despite his casual strut, there was a slight unsteadiness in his gait.

"Yeah. That's because I'm just getting back. I'm not the one who sneaks out under guise of darkness in order to take a shower." Sebastian stopped directly in front of him, giving him a thorough once-over.

Kurt felt incredibly self-conscious; he was swamped in a white, fluffy bathrobe, holding a shower caddy and dripping water. No great arguments had ever been won while looking like a baby duck.

Now that Kurt thought about it, the fact that Sebastian had kept tabs on his shower schedule also made him feel incredibly self-conscious. He'd begun showering late at night when he'd first transferred. It was so that no one would see his bruises, but he'd kept the habit even once they'd faded because he'd found that he enjoyed the solitude.

"And how would you know that?" Kurt asked, one eyebrow elegantly raised.

Sebastian stared at him with glittering eyes. "Because I come back late often. And you're not very observant." The way Sebastian talked had always been the way Kurt imagined a cat would speak – honied, silky, and with a hint of cruelty. His voice was the epitome of it tonight, all smoothness and velvet and heartlessness.

Sebastian was standing close enough that Kurt could smell the alcohol on him, and he wasn't sure whether him being buzzed would improve or worsen his personality.

Either way, Kurt refused to be intimidated, not now that he knew this was just another game Sebastian was playing. Kurt crossed his arms, tilting his head defiantly.

"Where were you tonight?"

"Same place I always go."

"Which is?"

Sebastian bit his upper lip as he stared down Kurt, one eyebrow raised suggestively. "A place where people go to have sex."

Kurt knew that there were certain people (both men and women) that chose to engage in sexual relationships before they were matched, and that there were certain bars and clubs where they congregated. Since romantic involvements before being imprinted were strongly discouraged (though not expressly forbidden), these relationships, as far as Kurt knew, were purely physical.

Kurt would be disgusted with Sebastian, if he wasn't certain that he was bluffing.

"Right. Except you seem to have forgotten that no one _would_ have sex with you. You're matched. No one would sleep now that you have a soulmate."

Sebastian blinked at him with a surprised expression, and for a moment Kurt was certain that he had him in a corner.

But then Sebastian burst out laughing, and Kurt felt like he had been sent back to square one.

"God, I keep forgetting that you're a fucking Bambi," he said, shaking his head as he exhaled in laughter.

"What does that mean?" Kurt said, lips pursing in frustration.

"It means," Sebastian said, his expression suddenly dropping into seriousness, "that you have the life experience of a baby kitten."

"Why? Because I happen to want a soulmate? I know that you're not legally required to be with your soulmate, but I also know it's taboo to sleep with someone who's been matched, especially since – "

"Jesus, Kurt! Half the people in there already have their soulmate marks," Sebastian hissed suddenly. "They don't come there to fuck because they're killing time, waiting for Prince or Princess Charming. They come there because they're miserable fucking people who don't give a shit about their soulmates and whose soulmates _probably_ don't give a shit about them!"

Sebastian took in a breath, and the anger in his voice dropped off slightly when he spoke again, more quietly. "Some people even get off on it, you know. They ask to see people's marks. Makes them feel, I don't know, better than. Whatever. I'm not into that shit. I just come to get laid, and I leave."

Kurt felt his self-assurance slowly draining out of him with every one of Sebastian's words. He finally found his voice, hiding somewhere at the back of his throat.

"You mean – people who've already met – they're already with their soulmate, and they – they cheat on them?"

Sebastian looked like he simultaneously wanted to strangle Kurt and pat him on the head. He finally seemed to settle on sighing. "Yeah, I guess they – something like that."

"But why? Soulmate matches have close to a 98% success rate. Matches where people aren't happy are really rare…"

"And what are you basing that on, Kurt?" Sebastian asked, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Your parents? The few examples you see around you? What the news tells you?"

The silence that hung between them after Sebastian's words felt monumental to Kurt. He didn't know why he'd assumed it was true, he'd just always had. He'd never had a reason to question it, he supposed, except everything that had been happening the past few days seemed to be telling him to.

"So, I guess…," he started, staring into Sebastian's flickering eyes, which seemed to be encouraging him to continue, "…I guess, there are a lot more incorrect soulmate matches out there than I thought," Kurt finished, and was shocked when Sebastian let out a yell of frustration.

"I give up!" he said, breathing heavily through his nose. "I fucking give up. One day, one day you'll figure it out, but you know what? It won't even matter, because none of it fucking matters, alright? I'm leaving now, before you tell me you still believe in unicorns, or leprechauns, or something, and we're never talking about this again, understand?"

He didn't wait for Kurt to answer, simply side-stepped him and began stalking down the hall towards his room.

Kurt had the decency to not cry until he was back in his own dorm.

* * *

When he'd clicked on the first link, a video had started playing. It had taken him a few moments to understand what he was seeing, but finally he'd realized it was a march of people with flags and placards, all yelling something in unison, though he hadn't been able to make out the words.

The shot had switched to a brunette woman in a white tank top, who'd been holding up her arms; on each of them there had been a soulmate name – two different ones. "Where is your system now?" she had been shouting in a French accent. "You gave me two, but you say I have only one! Where is your system now?"

The second video had been a blurry zoom-in of a blond girl.

"And you see here, this is his name," she had said to the camera with a thick Georgia accent, pointing to her arm.

"And what's wrong with your soulmate's name?" a person off-screen had asked.

She'd looked up. "Well that's – that's my brother's name," she'd said, tears glistening in her eyes.

After seeing the first few, Kurt had begun clicking through all of the links with growing urgency, as he realized that these, these had been the things he was looking for. These were the mistakes, the glitches, the inconsistencies. He'd felt his heart jump in relief. He wasn't alone. He was far from alone.

There'd been a man who'd had two different names layered over his forearm, imprinted at the same time; a woman who'd been matched to someone who had been dead over ten years; even a girl who'd gotten matched to herself.

Except these weren't just isolated incidents. Some of them were, but some were entire masses of people, like in the first video that he'd seen, and they were all marching, yelling, protesting, fighting. The gleam in their eyes had been the gleam of battle and injustice and glory – he had never seen such strong passion in anyone, even when people spoke of their soulmates, and yet here were masses of people around the world who seemed to believe strongly enough in something to put down everything for it.

He'd wished he understood what it was they were fighting for. He'd wished he understood why these videos and stories had been so difficult for him to find, buried under layers of meaningless trash. He'd wished he knew where all these people were now, if their lives had been fixed, if they'd won what they'd been fighting for.

One image that remained particularly emblazoned in Kurt's mind was a woman who had been covered head to toes in imprintings, all with different names of different soulmates. "I am Aphrodite!" she had screamed while being hoisted by a group of people who were marching as well. "I am love, I am life, I am free! I am not subject to your laws, to your petty rules! I love who I choose, and I choose to love!"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who's been reading and/or reviewing. Sorry for the long wait for this one, but I'm already working on the next chapter, so hopefully there won't be too long of a break this time. Hope you guys enjoy :)**

* * *

"Student 32561 to Ms. July's office, student 32561 to Ms. July's office, immediately."

Blaine glanced over at Kurt with a questioning expression, to which Kurt simply shrugged while reaching for his bag. Pleading ignorance wasn't exactly a lie, as he didn't know why Ms. July was calling him in. However, he could probably hazard a guess that it was something to do with his matching, and _that_ was something he certainly did have to lie to Blaine about.

It had been almost a week exactly since he'd been marked with Sebastian's name.

Since that time, Kurt had spent almost every spare moment online, searching over and over again for similar videos and blogs. He never was able to find the original blog he'd stumbled across, but through careful scouring, following link after link into a deeper web, he was able to find similar stories and musings, and he'd begun recording some of them as notes in a journal.

With every video he saw, he became more and more convinced that there was some massive, global struggle of which he was completely unaware, and one that was somehow connected to, but more far-reaching, than the CODE glitches. Hardly anything was written down; everything he could find was in videos, and the speeches made in those always had vague references – phrases like 'fighting for freedom,' 'freedom to love,' and 'down with the tyranny.'

The videos were always swirling around in his head, particularly the woman covered all over with soulmate marks. "I am Aphrodite!" she had screamed, and her words and face had begun to sink into his dreams.

Somehow, Kurt felt, somehow, this unknown movement was tied to the same idea that Sebastian had been trying to lead him to the other night – some revelation that Sebastian was already in possession of, but which he refused to share with Kurt.

Kurt had considered showing some of the videos to him, even asking him about everything directly, but each time he came close, the image of Sebastian's leering smirk and an echo of "Deal with it on your own, Princess," pulled him up short.

Even with the uncertainties raised by the videos, however, the hardest part of the week by far had been speaking to his father. Kurt hadn't realized that, seeing as he was still a minor, the school would contact Burt as Kurt's guardian to inform him of their match.

The day after he'd been imprinted, his father had phoned him.

"Hey, kiddo. Carol thought I should give you a day to think things over if you didn't call first. How you holding up?"

Kurt had paused a beat too long before answering him, and so the next day his father had driven up to see him, taking him out to dinner at a nearby Thai restaurant.

"Kurt, I think it's fine that you're not starting a relationship yet. You two are young, and like they told you, it's all a bit ahead of schedule." His father had poked at his Pad Thai noodles, which his Co-phone had recommended to be the Thai cuisine dish he was most likely to enjoy.

"If anything, I – " he paused, looking up earnestly at Kurt. "If anything, I was a bit worried that you'd throw yourself into it too hard. Put too much pressure on yourself, you know? But hey, there's _no _rush. Take your time. Take as long as you want," he'd said, patting Kurt's hand, while clumsily trying to pick up a dollop of noodles with his chopsticks.

"Oh, but I do want to meet him," he'd said, just before inelegantly shoveling the noodles in his mouth in a way that made Kurt cringe.

"I, umm – I don't think he's ready for that," Kurt had said quietly. The idea of a meeting between his father and Sebastian, with his unfiltered mouth and frankly clinical disrespect for authority, was horrifying to Kurt, and he knew that he had to prevent it at all costs.

For the first time, he'd wondered if Sebastian was having a similar conservation with his parents somewhere at that exact moment, and if he was finding himself in the exact same position as Kurt – trying to subtly push off a meeting, describing his new soulmate without_ really_ describing him, giving as little information as possible without sounding like anything was wrong.

"Right, it doesn't have to be tomorrow," his father had answered once he'd finished chewing, "but soon. This is supposed to be my son-in-law. I want to know him."

"Yes, and you will, Dad."

Kurt had decided it was best to keep his plans to erase Sebastian's name from his arm to himself for now. When it finally seemed certain that everything would be fixed, that would be when he'd tell Burt. Until then, there wasn't any reason to worry his father, or, God forbid, have him try to convince Kurt to stay with Sebastian.

Walking down the hallway to Ms. July's office, Kurt didn't hold much hope that the meeting was about the match being removed. If that were true, then both of them would have been called in. If Kurt had to guess, this was something to do with the counseling she had mentioned earlier – perhaps it hadn't been so much an offer as a requirement.

Sent in by the same stern-looking receptionist as before, Kurt knocked once on Ms. July's door before entering. She was scrolling through a tablet but looked up with a polite, languid smile as he came in.

"Ah, Kurt. Please sit down."

Kurt took the same chair he had been in before, placing his bag down beside it.

Ms. July put the tablet to the side and clasped her hands in front of her. Her blonde hair was in the same side chignon as before. "So, how have you been? How's your mark healing?"

"It's, umm, it's better, thanks." Kurt had gone to the school nurse to receive treatment. She'd given him various soothing creams and a few painkillers, but his damaged skin was mostly following the process of natural healing.

Ms. July nodded with the same smile. "Good," she said softly. "How about you overall, Kurt? How are you dealing with all this?"

Kurt, unsure of what to say, began fiddling with the end of his tie. "I'm…adjusting."

"And Sebastian? Have you been speaking to him?"

"A bit."

It wasn't exactly a lie. Since their…not exactly a confrontation… in the dorm hall that night, Sebastian had seemed to abandon his vendetta against Kurt, and had instead satisfied himself by returning to his usual taunts. "Tinker Bell," "Trans Barbie," "Casper the Fancy Ghost," and "Slow White" had been heavily featured in their 'conversations' the past few days.

Ms. July seemed to take a few seconds to study him, scrutinizing his face intensely. Finally, she spoke.

"Kurt, I understand this isn't simple. I also understand that you probably have a lot of questions," she nodded. "But I'd really prefer when you did have questions, that you'd come to me to get answers, rather than trying to find them yourself. The internet can be a rather confusing and sometimes unpleasant place."

Kurt blinked at her. "I'm not sure – I'm not sure I understand what you mean."

And he didn't – he hadn't told her (told anyone, really, except Sebastian) about his plans to get his imprinting removed. Her voice was careful and patient, as if she was explaining something to a child too young to understand his own mistake. He felt a prickle of discomfort starting at the back of his neck.

She gave him another sympathetic (condescending? Kurt wondered) smile. "The fact of the matter, Kurt, is that there are certain sites online – certain _unpleasant_ sites made by people with…shall we say, selfish or unfavorable agendas, and when people like yourself – _innocent_ people like yourself – stumble onto them, they can find it hard to interpret what it all means."

The moment he heard the word 'innocent,' Kurt was immediately back to that night in the dorm hall, the smell of alcohol and cologne and regret as Sebastian leaned in toward him, hearing the taunting words distinctly in his ears – _I keep forgetting that you're a fucking Bambi. _

"As a school, our main priority is to keep our student body protected and safe. These… unwanted sites, or any other questionable sites, for that matter – when they're accessed on school property, alerts are sent to our system. We're able to see who accesses them, and when."

She stopped, looking at him expectantly. The unfinished part of her thought hung in the air – _You've been accessing these sites. _Her voice sounded perfectly straightforward and calm, but Kurt felt there was an undercurrent to it – very subtle, but very firm. He was reminded of her utter tranquility when Sebastian had begun callously insulting her. Something in her calmness went past self-control and into the unnatural.

Suddenly, to his surprise, he wished Sebastian was there, to ease the tension, or to change the course of the conversation. Sebastian, it seemed, was completely unafraid of Ms. July – or just unafraid of consequences in general.

"I… " Kurt took a moment, trying to phrase everything carefully. "I guess I've just been trying to see, you know, if the CODE has had glitches before, and…" He trailed off, unsure how to explain his interest.

Ms. July nodded in too-practiced understanding. "It _has_ had glitches, Kurt, but the CODE has always been able to right itself almost immediately. When it doesn't, like in the timing of your match, we are still aware that the glitch has taken place, and are able to inform you of it straight away."

Kurt nodded. "I – I understand that, I think. I guess I was just… curious." There was a beat of silence, and for a moment he thought he had said the wrong thing, but then Ms. July was giving him the same languid smile as before.

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with curiosity, Kurt. But wouldn't you rather get it from a trusted source – from me, or one of your teachers, rather than malicious strangers on some remote platform?" She tilted her head, as if trying to show how obvious the choice was.

"Now, Kurt, don't get me wrong. I'm not saying you intentionally went looking for these sites. I understand you didn't know what you were doing, that you stumbled on them by accident, and, like anyone in your position, tried to understand what they were. You're not in any trouble at all."

The smile of reassurance that she gave him sent slight shivers down his spine. All of her words were soothing and understanding, but a small knot of uneasiness had started forming in the pit of his stomach, and was growing stronger with each word that passed.

"But I will have to ask you to not access those sites anymore. And if you've saved anything from them, on your laptop, in pictures, anything at all, I will also have to ask you to turn them over to me. Just know, if you have any questions in the future, I am only an email or a visit away, and I'm sure that – who's your _Introduction to Computational History _teacher?"

"Um, Ms. Crup."

"Yes, and I'm sure that Ms. Crup will be just as happy to answer any questions specific to the CODE that you might have. So," she paused to give him a meaningful look, "does that sound fair, Kurt?"

It did.

It sounded immaculately fair, and generous, and considerate, and the Kurt of a week ago would have likely walked away from the conversation feeling relieved and unbothered, without a second thought or suspicion.

But he wasn't the Kurt of a week ago. He'd spent the week watching masses of people – unfavorable, selfish people, Ms. July called them – burn with a passion of justice and righteousness for some unknown cause, seen the spirit of hope and trust and harmony; he'd seen Aphrodite come to life in the arms of a crowd that hoisted her toward the heavens as she screamed for love.

And he'd seen Sebastian – seen a knowing, wise-beyond-his-years look in his eyes, a want for condemnation and, Kurt now knew, the want for someone else (anyone else) to understand what he already did.

And this Kurt, this Kurt had a knot of uneasiness in his stomach. This Kurt sensed something cold about the woman sitting serenely in front of him, something threatening and powerful buried so deep within her that he wasn't sure she'd ever fully shown it to anyone.

Kurt thought of the journal sitting in his bag that very moment – the careful, handwritten notes about the people in the videos, the places in the marches (as far as he could guess), the mistakes of the imprintings, the words in the speeches.

"More than fair, Ms. July," he said, in what he hoped was a grateful tone. "I won't go on those sites ever again. I – I didn't realize what they were." And then, for good measure: "I didn't save anything from them, but do you think – should my laptop be looked at, in case there's… I don't know, something bad on it?"

Ms. July's smile was the same languid and relaxed dip that it was before, but he could swear he detected a hint of satisfaction in it.

"No, Kurt. So long as you don't access them again, it should be fine."

"Good," he breathed, trying to sound relieved.

"Are there any questions you have for me now?"

Kurt paused, as if to consider everything. "Only one," he finally said, because even the Kurt of a week ago would have likely wanted to know this. "All those people – what do they want?"

Ms. July's expression didn't so much as flicker at the question. "Simply put, Kurt… chaos. Carnage. Our global society is at a level of harmony it's never reached before, and some people aren't happy with that. They thrive in the chaos, in other people's misfortune and disfunction. That's what they want. And they also want to pull as many innocent people" (_Bambi, _Sebastian murmured_) _"into it as they can. They cover their motives with pretty words and ideas, but if you look closer, there's nothing behind it. It's all darkness. It's all just… chaos."

And from the pitying tilt of her head, from the emotional clasp of her neatly manicured hands, from the intense and sympathetic sheen of her eyes, Kurt almost believed her.

* * *

He spent the entire night in fitful bursts of sleep interrupting painful stretches of insomnia.

Every time he woke up, he felt like he'd finally reached an obvious decision, except it was always a different one.

At some points in the night, the only way he could explain the events of the day was a momentary bout of insanity. He couldn't justify to himself why he had lied to Ms. July. The next day, he would return to her office, he would give her the journal, and he would beg for absolution.

At other points in the night, everything he'd done seemed perfectly reasonable. If he had come in to a stern talking-to, with a clear and strict reprimand, it would have been one thing. But it seemed like she had been trying to cajole him, to scare him into not wanting to visit the sites anymore, without ever explicitly threatening him of anything. As far as he could tell, there was nothing illegal in what he had done – as far as he could tell, he had every right to keep the journal, and even to visit the sites again (though all things considered, accessing them again on school property probably wasn't the wisest idea).

He ricocheted between the two sides as he tossed and turned, trying to understand if he was being too paranoid or not paranoid enough. At one point, early in the morning, he even considered knocking on Sebastian's door and spilling everything out to him – the videos, the sites, the Aphrodite, the conversation with Ms. July. He was getting desperate to talk to someone about all of this, for someone to tell him that he wasn't, in fact, losing his mind over a website and a journal.

Strangely enough, Blaine, the person he would usually spill his deepest, darkest secrets to, was completely out of the question. There was no way that he would discuss all of this with his future soulmate, especially not if a happy ending was still in reach. And he could just picture Blaine's horror if he told him that he'd lied to the school's assistant principal.

"You have to give her the journal," Kurt knew he would say, because it's the exact thing that Kurt would have said in his position, especially since he couldn't give an actual reason for hiding it in the first place.

Except Kurt couldn't give it to her, because unlike Blaine, he'd actually been there, and he'd actually felt all of it – the unsaid understandings and the calm that was too cold and the overwhelming sense of '_not right._'

When he finally woke up to his alarm, it was with a suffocating tangle of guilt, anxiety, and wariness, but it was also with a decision that held the flavor of finality – he would keep the journal, and that was that.

"Hey," Blaine greeted him as he sat down at the breakfast table. His smile faltered for a second, and Kurt didn't have to wonder why. He knew he looked horrible – in addition to a night of sleeplessness, there was a pallor and sunkenness in his face that meant the events of the week were finally catching up to him.

"Everything okay?" seemed to be the nicest way Blaine could think of phrasing his concern. Kurt appreciated the effort to pretend he looked even semi-alive.

"Bad night of sleep," Kurt sighed, sitting down across from him and placing his bag on the floor. Even though his journal was no longer with him (he had hidden it carefully in between textbooks and papers in his dorm closet), he could still feel the weight and guilt of it hanging beside him.

It wasn't just the sleepless night – it was the blossoming realization that he'd finally hit an unnegotiable dead end. Just as he'd thought he was getting somewhere, on the cusp of gathering enough evidence and support, it had all been snatched away from him. He couldn't go on those sites anymore (at least not on his school-provided laptop or his Co-phone) and he had no way of contacting any of the people that had been in the videos. He was back to square one, with little to show for it except an intense unease and an evidently newfound paranoia.

"Well, you better drink some coffee, because I'm going to need you to stay awake for the movie with me."

_Damn it. _Kurt had forgotten that they'd been planning on going to the movies that night – an entire group of them had, in fact. Only a week ago his head had been filled with thoughts of what to wear and whether or not their hands would brush inside the popcorn tin; now, he was worrying about a potentially permanent soulmate mark and an enigmatic global conspiracy.

When Kurt didn't respond, Blaine frowned. "You can still go, right? We _have_ been planning this for a week." His voice held a note of cajoling and rejection, a tone that reminded Kurt of how little he'd seen or talked with Blaine since he'd gotten his mark.

Kurt nodded without thinking, because it was Blaine, and he would do anything to make Blaine happy. "Yes… yes, of course, I can go."

Blaine considered him, eyes tracing over him with deep concern. "Are you sure you're okay?" he finally asked quietly.

It was at that moment that Kurt almost broke – almost let the tears go, almost spilled out the entire truth, almost ripped up his sleeve and showed Blaine the damning imprint, healing welts and all – but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sebastian standing at a corner of the lunchroom, typing furiously on his phone, and suddenly, he knew if he was going to confide in anyone, it would have to be Sebastian.

"Kurt?" Blaine said, turning over his shoulder in an attempt to see what he'd had been looking at, but Kurt immediately ripped his eyes away from Sebastian's direction.

"Sorry, Blaine. Dead man walking here. But I'm fine, really. And I can't wait for the movie."

Kurt spent the rest of the breakfast listening to Blaine tell him about an argument that Nick and Jeff had been having in the common room yesterday, chiming in when he felt it was needed, but mostly, trying to not look in Sebastian's direction, ignoring his apprehension for their inevitable conversation and the whispered echo of '_fucking Bambi'_ that seemed to always be in the back of his head now.

* * *

"Can we talk?"

After searching the grounds and prompting a few curious eyebrow raises, Kurt had finally tracked Sebastian down after school in the upper classman common room. He was the only one there, reclined on one of the couches, legs stretched out, staring at something on his Co-phone.

He looked up at Kurt's sudden question, and then waited a beat, as if expecting it to be directed to someone else.

"About?" he finally said, his tone both bored and unwelcoming.

"You know about what."

"That drunken night of passion we shared in Tijuana?"

Kurt sat down on the arm of the couch, refusing to be diverted. "I wanted to talk about the glitch."

Sebastian's face immediately darkened from boredom to displeasure. "Are you having trouble remembering what I told you?"

"You told me to deal with it on my own."

"And? Has something changed?"

"There's something – " Kurt looked back into the hallway, where a few students were walking through, and then back at Sebastian. "Can we talk? In private?"

Sebastian held his stare, one eyebrow rising in interrogation.

"About what exactly, Bambi?"

"I'd really prefer it if – "

"Students 32561 and 32742 to Ms. July's office, students 32561 and 32742 to Ms. July's office immediately."

Kurt's heart leapt into his throat. The panic must have shown on his face, because Sebastian frowned at him questioningly, but the world was already starting to swim in Kurt's eyes.

Ms. July had found the journal. Stupid, stupid, stupid – he'd been so stupid to leave it in his room. He wasn't sure how she'd found out, but she had, and now she was going to punish him, and probably Sebastian for good measure – God, he should have given it to her when he had the chance.

Sebastian carefully stood, straightening his tie and tucking his phone into his pocket. "Everything alright, there, Bambi?" he asked, with a tone that was a touch too casual.

Kurt desperately wanted to blurt out everything, wanted to burden someone else with his secrets and his guilt, but there wasn't any time.

"I'm fine," he said. "And stop calling me Bambi."

They walked in silence to the front office; Sebastian's strides were nonchalant and unhurried, but Kurt still found himself struggling to keep up at a normal pace of walking. A million thoughts were swirling in Kurt's head. He would say it wasn't his – no, he couldn't say that. He would say he hadn't known he was doing anything wrong – or that he'd forgotten he had it. He would say – shit, he'd never been good at lying.

He particularly wasn't good at hiding guilt. Ms. July already knew, anyhow, and there were no magical words he could say, no hidden trapdoor to provide him with an unscathed escape. He was trapped, and he would try his best not to pull Sebastian down with him, but he couldn't make any promises.

The same stern-looking receptionist as always let them through with an unaffected wave, and Kurt felt a small bout of nausea pass over him as they stopped at Ms. July's closed door.

Sebastian, standing behind him, leaned forward slightly. "Ladies first," he said quietly, and then he knocked on the door.

"Please, come in," Ms. July's muffled voice said, and against Kurt's best judgment, he opened the door and stepped inside.

And almost immediately, he felt a fresh dose of panic. Because while Ms. July was sitting at the desk as usual, in one of the other chairs was his father, and if this was grave enough to phone him about, then maybe hiding the journal was even more serious than Kurt had thought.

"Come in, come in," Ms. July beckoned patiently. A third chair had been pulled into her office, slightly behind the other two. Kurt sat down in that one, unable to meet his father's eyes.

"What's this about?" Sebastian said testily, and Kurt had been so concerned with the journal that it was only at that moment it hit him that his father and Sebastian were in the same room. Meeting. For the first time.

Kurt stood up abruptly from his chair again, blocking his father's view of Sebastian.

"Ms. July, I just wanted to say, I understand our conversation, I've thought about what you said, I wanted to tell you – " Words were rolling out of Kurt's mouth without any really sense of direction or unity, and thankfully, Ms. July cut him off with a raised hand.

"Please, both of you, sit."

"Sit, Kurt," his father said, his voice terse and his eyes flashing with anger, and Kurt felt himself freeze as panic threatened to overwhelm him. He suddenly felt a hand lightly pushing on his shoulder, and he turned his head to see that Sebastian was guiding him down into his chair, staring at him as warily as if he were a ticking time bomb.

Kurt let himself fall into his seat, and Ms. July waited patiently as Sebastian sat down in his, casually crossing his legs.

"Alright, enough stalling. I want answers, and I want them right now." Kurt recognized the heated displeasure in his father's voice, but when he turned to answer him, he found with surprise that his father's words were directed at Ms. July.

"Believe me, Mr. Hummel," she said calmly, ever so calmly, "we are doing everything in our power to find out how this could have happened, and I – "

"This isn't some wrong piece of data in the CODE, Principal, this is my son we're talking about. His safety, his privacy. And as far as I can tell – "

"Believe me when I say," Ms. July interrupted with the same smooth calmness, "that we are doing everything in our power to minimize the damage and – "

"Care to fill us in?" Sebastian broke in, his voice firm and unyielding, arms crossed over his chest. Kurt didn't appreciate the bluntness of his tone, but frankly, he'd been about to ask a similar question himself. Every second of conversation was only serving to make him more confused.

Both of the adults broke off, and after a moment's silence, Kurt's father turned to him. "Look, kiddo, I don't want you to worry about this, but, uh... someone's learned about your matching."

A hint of new foreboding began building in Kurt's stomach. "What do you mean, 'someone'?"

His father glanced over to Ms. July, and then back to him.

"_Somehow_…somehow, the news about your matching was leaked. And seeing as it's rare, getting matched so young, some bastards decided that…" Burt broke off, staring sympathetically at his son in a way that was never a good sign. "There's been a story published, Kurt. With both of your names."


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Hey, everyone! Longer chapter than usual, because I felt like all of the parts kind of fit together, but hope you guys still enjoy it :) Thank you for reading, and as always, reviews are greatly appreciated!**

* * *

Kurt would have been lying if he said he'd never fantasized about seeing his name in the news. But this – this was a nightmare of the worst proportions.

As it was eventually explained to him, it was at some point that afternoon that a story of their matching had been anonymously leaked, picked up by local news, then by state, and finally by national.

The speed with which everything was compiled and spread was dizzying to Kurt. Photographs of both Sebastian and Kurt were being displayed with their full names on almost every story. Some articles had fictional quotes from either one or both of them inserted into the text. The headlines were anything from _Puppy Love: Youngest Soulmates Matched in the Last Fifty Years _(they weren't) to _Thirteen Years Early: They've Said They're Engaged _(they hadn't).

And there was no sign of it stopping. They were trending. Complete strangers were reading about _his _life, _his_ secrets. Every time that Kurt looked at his Co-phone, it pulled a fresh story up for him. _News about you. Want to read?_

Finally, three hours into the meeting with Ms. July (to which the Principal, the School Superintendent, and a School Media Specialist had been sequentially added), Kurt's father had snapped at him to turn it off.

"Checking the damn thing isn't going to change anything."

Kurt pretended to power it down but set it on silent instead. The actual reason he'd been checking it every few minutes wasn't to monitor the spread of the story, but rather in hopes of some kind of – any kind of – contact from Blaine, something that would give Kurt a gauge on what he was currently feeling or thinking.

So far, there had been no new messages.

"So, you're telling me," his father began the same speech for the umpteenth time, "that these kids, whose private information you were in charge of protecting, these kids, these _minors,_ are just going to have to live with it? Because you can't get your asses out of your heads long enough to figure out how to fix this?"

While the Media Specialist continued typing away at his Co-laptop, Ms. July leaned forward to begin _her_ patient rebuttal for the umpteenth time. Though she was still wearing a mask of seemingly endless calm, Kurt thought he could see small fissures starting to form, visible in the tight clasp of her hands and the paleness of her lips.

"Mr. Hummel, as I've already said, we are trying to do everything in our power to remove the stories, but, as you know, we don't have control or direct access to the Media Institution. The best we can do is try to get in touch with the Institution's help-line and – "

"Alright," Burt roughly cut her off, "well, where are you on figuring out who leaked their match, then? It wasn't me. It wasn't my son. Who else knew about it?"

Ms. July stared at him for a moment, lips pursed in either anger or sympathy. "No one, other than me, the school nurse, and Mr. Ryerson," Ms. July indicated the Principal, "knew about the match, and you can be assured, Mr. Hummel, that all of us have always maintained the highest discretion. We take the confidentiality of our students' affairs extremely seriously, and – "

"Alright, then. How about you share _your_ explanation with all of us?"

Kurt resisted the urge to scream.

They'd been replaying the same conversation for hours, in slowly escalating tones, in which his father demanded answers, Ms. July and the others repeatedly gave evasive non-answers, and the exchange continued up until a bursting point of exasperation, at which point it started all over again. All the while, the Media Specialist worked fruitlessly beside them on his laptop, typing unknown words rapidly on his keyboard. He could have been playing a game of online Scrabble, for all Kurt knew.

Sebastian, meanwhile, was uncharacteristically quiet through all of it. He was reclined in his chair, hands folded over his lap, watching the back-and-forth volley between Kurt's father and Ms. July with a non-expression.

Kurt wanted to shake him, wanted to scream in his face to wake up, wanted to get any form of reaction from him, even if it was just disdain or annoyance. It wasn't fair, that Kurt felt like his world was crumbling into tiny shards around him, while Sebastian looked like he was watching a mildly interesting weather report.

Throughout the conversations, Kurt could see his father giving sidelong glances to Sebastian, clearly trying to get a gauge on the person he believed was his son's soulmate. Sebastian gave no sign of a reciprocal interest, though Kurt wondered if his out-of-character silence had anything to do with his father's presence.

Ms. July was saved from jumping into her scripted response by her Co-phone loudly and assertively ringing. She was frozen for a moment, eyes trained down on the phone screen, before she finally reached down to answer it, pressing it to her ear.

"Yes…Yes…Perfectly…Yes."

"Is that the Institution?" Burt broke in. "Tell them – "

Ms. July held a single finger up in a gesture of silence, and, seeing the outraged expression on Burt's face, immediately stood up and ducked out of the room.

"Where the fuck is she going?" Burt said to the School Superintendent and Mr. Ryerson, who was playing nervously with the buttons of his vest.

"Please, Mr. Hummel, your patience is greatly appreciated," was the Principal's uneasy reply.

"It's my father," Sebastian announced, still lazily reclined in his chair, to no one in particular. And then, with the utmost matter-of-factness, as if it was a self-evident fact: "He's going to take care of it."

"Is he in the Media?" Kurt asked, because in all honesty, he knew little to nothing about Sebastian's family, and even worse, it had never even occurred to him to be curious.

"No," was the only response Sebastian gave, looking down as he nonchalantly adjusted his watch strap.

The room fell into silence, as if the turn of events now solely lay on the outcome of Ms. July's phone call, and the discussion of anything else in the meantime would be pointless. Even the Media Specialist had stopped typing.

Kurt was tired. He could see his father angling his head toward Sebastian, seemingly on the brink of starting a conversation, but Kurt no longer cared enough to intervene. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to get up and leave, to search the school grounds for Blaine (though Kurt was far from knowing what he would say to him) or even to simply lock himself in his own bedroom, burying himself into solitude.

Perhaps it was five, perhaps it was ten minutes, but it wasn't too long of a time before Ms. July reentered her office, setting her phone back down on her desk and neatly sliding into her seat.

"So, we were discussing the leak."

Kurt's heart sank. Against all reason, he had latched onto hope that there had been some truth to Sebastian's words instead of his usual hot air, and that this whole nightmare might finally be wrapping up. Clearly, he'd been wrong to put any kind of faith in Sebastian.

He furtively snuck another look at his Co-phone.

A fresh news story, but still no messages.

"As I have said before, Mr. Hummel, we do not _as of right now_ know where the leak originated, but be assured that we are doing our best to conduct a thorough investigation of the matter." Kurt sunk back into his seat, letting the words wash over him, trying his best to look focused and to not let his mind wander to Blaine.

And then – it was around ten minutes later or so, with Kurt's newly blank phone screen being the first indication that anything had changed – every story about them simply disappeared.

It was all gone. Their names were no longer trending. Their photographs had vanished. According to the Media Specialist, who had first brought the development to Ms. July's attention, almost every mention of them had been removed entirely.

Kurt didn't know for certain if it really _was _Sebastian's father, or some other enigmatic force, but, judging from the lack of surprise on Sebastian's face, Kurt suspected it might indeed have been the former.

It was still an entire half hour later, with ample confirmation on Burt's part that the stories would not be reposted, and repeated promises on Ms. July's part that they would all be informed of any developments, that the three of them managed to make their way out of Ms. July's office.

Sebastian walked slightly ahead of them down the hallway, his hands shoved into his pockets, seemingly deep in thought.

"What did you say your father does again?" Burt said in a boorish tone that Kurt knew was directed less at Sebastian and more at four hours' worth of unproductivity.

Sebastian turned to give him a boyish grin that was the epitome of insincerity. "I didn't say," he replied before continuing to walk, and Kurt was too emotionally exhausted to reprimand either one of them. He wished that the stories finally being removed had provided him with any modicum of relief, but instead, all that Kurt had was an overwhelming sense the main damage had already been well and truly done.

"Hey, kid!" Burt called to him sternly, and Sebastian froze mid-stride, his back still towards Burt. Slowly, he turned around.

"Don't call me _'kid_,'" Sebastian pronounced carefully, his voice low and his eyes narrowed.

Burt held his palms up in a motion of conciliation. "Look, I understand this whole mess wasn't the best way for us to meet. We're all tired. We're all upset. But I just wanted to let you know, sometime soon, I want us to sit down and talk for a little." Burt gave him a meaningful look, which made Kurt want to disappear from existence. "You're my son's soulmate," Burt continued, "and that means you're going to be a part of the family, whether you like it or not."

Sebastian stared back at him, nostrils flaring slightly. Maybe the hours of tension had worn down Sebastian's emotional mask, or maybe Kurt was getting better at reading him, but tints of anger were finally becoming visible on Sebastian's previously blank features.

For a horrible moment, Kurt was certain Sebastian was about to tell his father the truth of everything – that neither of them were happy, that Sebastian couldn't care less about a soulmate and Kurt was shopping around for a different one – but to Kurt's relief, he simply gave a bitter huff, twisting his mouth into a sardonic smile.

"I'll look forward to the Christmas card."

Kurt knew from bitter experience that his father didn't tolerate a smart mouth, and Burt looked like he was on the brink of saying something, but in the end he must have decided the circumstances were reason enough to be lenient, as he simply nodded gruffly. Now Kurt could look forward to explaining to his dad that this was actually Sebastian on good behavior.

His father turned to Kurt. "Pack a bag from upstairs. You're staying home for a few days."

Kurt's immediate instinct, despite a wariness to face any of his friends tomorrow, was to protest, because his father had always had a tendency to overprotect, and Kurt in turn had always had a tendency to overcompensate. "But I have a test tomorrow, Dad. And they've already taken the articles down. I don't see the point in – "

"It's not up for discussion, Kurt," his father said sharply, cutting him off mid-sentence. Kurt shut his mouth abruptly, feeling tears pinpricking the corners of his eyes – he knew that Burt was frustrated (certainly, all of them were), but it always hit a nerve when his father snapped at him, particularly when he was tired himself.

"Okay," he said quietly, blinking the tears away forcibly. It was one thing to let them fall in front of his father, but he wasn't prepared to break down in front of Sebastian – not in front of the boy who already thought he was a princess (and a _fucking Bambi_).

"I'll wait in the car," his father said, starting down the hallway.

"I'll be down in a few minutes," Kurt called after him. A stony silence was left behind between him and Sebastian, who hadn't moved from his previous position, as his father disappeared down the hallway.

"I'm not meeting with your dad," Sebastian finally broke the quiet, hands shoved into his pockets (a signature Sebastian pose, Kurt was starting to notice), eyebrows crinkling sharply down in distaste.

Kurt met his eyes, hoping all evidence of tears were gone by now. "Believe me, it's in all of our interests that you don't." Silence reclaimed the air around them, and Kurt suddenly found it was best to examine Sebastian's shoes.

"Bit strange, don't you think?" Sebastian spoke again, just as Kurt had reached the final decision that they were Burberry. "How Cassandra was the most junior employee of all of them, but she was still the one doing all the talking?" Something in Sebastian's tone suggested that he was making the observation more for Kurt's benefit than his own, encouraging him to infer something from his words.

Kurt had noticed it during the meeting, as well – had found it odd that the School Superintendent and Mr. Ryerson appeared to be hovering to the side while Ms. July, only the assistant principal, made all the decisions and gave all of the ultimatums. But noticing it did not in itself imply that Kurt had any idea what it meant. He suspected Sebastian did, and he also suspected that it was pointless to ask.

Another thing that bothered Kurt was how instantaneously and thoroughly everything about them had been scrubbed from the internet. Was that the same way they (whoever _they _were) removed all of the videos and information about the protests that he'd been searching for the past week? Was that why information about incorrect matches had been so difficult to find?

And more importantly, could they do that with any story they didn't like – just make it vanish into thin air, as if it had never existed, never happened, and never mattered?

Sebastian's sigh broke Kurt out of his thoughts, and he drew his eyes back up to Sebastian's face.

"Maybe she had contacts in the Institution," was all Kurt could think to offer up. He was surprised that Sebastian hadn't started walking away yet, that he was still lingering noncommittally in front of Kurt, though his face didn't show any sign of either interest or entreaty.

"I'm sure that's it," Sebastian replied glibly, paired with a faintly scornful look. He glanced down to smooth down his tie, and then looked back up. "Well?"

Kurt stared at him, nonplussed. He was starting to feel that every conversation with Sebastian was a quiz of some kind, and that he was continually failing.

Sebastian shifted impatiently. "Something you wanted to talk to me about? Back in the common room?"

Kurt was surprised that Sebastian had remembered anything that had happened before the onset of this Media shitstorm (Kurt certainly hadn't), and even more surprised that he was actually willing to listen.

He considered the options. This was as good of a chance as any, after all, to tell Sebastian everything. It would be so simple to invite him up to Kurt's dorm room, sit him down on his freshly laundered bed, and unburden himself of every guilt and secret while he packed.

In that moment, Kurt realized that he wanted to confide in Sebastian, and not just out of obligation. No – it was because Sebastian had the potential to be the level-headed voice of reason that Kurt needed right now. And also because, for some strange reason, Kurt felt fully certain that Sebastian wouldn't betray his trust.

But looking at him now, with traces of tiredness finally giving themselves away around his eyes, and his scowl and tone lacking their usual caustic bite, Kurt also realized that as much as he wanted to tell him, he couldn't.

If Ms. July really had more cards at her disposal than she'd played so far, and if she already had an eye on Kurt, then dragging Sebastian into this mess wouldn't be doing him any favors. No, if Kurt was going to make stupidly naïve decisions, he would do it alone, and let Sebastian wallow safely in his disenchantment.

"Just – I just wanted to make sure we were still on the same page. About the match. That you're – " Kurt mentally hesitated, knowing he was about to sever all tentative connections that might have been forming between him and Sebastian, "- that you're not getting any ideas about us ever ending up together. Even if I don't get our names removed."

Sebastian's face darkened in contempt almost immediately.

Kurt knew, with how proud Sebastian was of his own self-sufficiency and aloofness, that implying that he was in any way dependent on Kurt would be like lighting a fuse to his already sparking temper.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it," Sebastian finally said, his voice dangerously low, velvety and humming. His face was made painfully blank, and Kurt was reminded unpleasantly of Ms. July. "After all, don't you have damage control to take care of with _Anderson?"_

Blaine's name being said was like a lightning bolt of hurt through Kurt, a shock of heartache that had been building progressively through four hours of an empty phone screen and no unread messages. The _way _the name was said – with vitriolic derision for both Blaine and Kurt somehow infused into the one word – made Kurt simultaneously want to slap Sebastian and apologize to him.

Except Kurt couldn't do that. He was the one who started this, after all. And having the temptation of a confidante would just prove too much eventually – it was better to end it now.

"I'll see you around, Sebastian," Kurt said in as quiet and calm a voice as he could muster, side-stepping him to begin his walk to the stairwell. He was beginning to understand how Ms. July and Sebastian did it, how they managed to hide all (or most, in Sebastian's case) of their emotions behind steel-hard masks.

It was something akin to digging into yourself, burying your innermost feelings, as strong and potent as they were, somewhere deep into your core, beneath layers upon layers of coolness. They still burned somewhere inside of you, with no less intensity or passion, but they were far from the surface, far from where anyone else could have access to them or use them against you. Kurt could see himself learning to do that with his emotions, could see how it would become easier with time – he could even see himself becoming quite good at it one day.

And that thought, out of all the confusing, unpleasant, unexpected things that had happened to him in the last week, was by far what terrified him the most.

* * *

Kurt didn't end up calling Blaine the rest of that week. The unbearable fear that the phone would continuing ringing out until it reached a cold, recorded voicemail, or worse, cut to it immediately, stayed Kurt's hand each time he was tempted to press Blaine's name on his Co-phone.

He didn't send any texts either, but he did spend a good portion of the weekend staring at his phone's screen. It was noticeably blank – no messages came, even from any of his other friends at Dalton.

He and Burt had driven home in near silence after he'd hurriedly piled a bag full of clothes and textbooks in his dorm room. Almost the moment they'd walked through the door of their house, Kurt had broken down, burying his face in his father's chest, feeling Burt's hands wrap around him with no hesitation.

"Anything else bothering you, kiddo? Other than what happened today?" Burt had asked some time later, with Kurt still leaning into his shoulder on the couch while _Friends _reruns played in the background.

It was a moment of weakness, without doubt, but in that second Kurt had felt safe, and loved, and he couldn't help but answer his father truthfully.

"I don't think – I don't think Sebastian and I were matched correctly."

There had been a silence, as Burt seemed to be mulling over Kurt's words, and Kurt had found himself holding his breath. Despite what reason suggested, part of him (the little boy inside of him, the one that still idolized his father for pulling a coin out of his ear) had wanted – no, needed – his dad to tell him that there was some simple solution, that soulmate name or no, Kurt could still be happy.

"It's not easy," Burt had finally said, staring at the Co-TV screen. The episode was somewhere in the fifth season, when Chandler and Monica had first gotten imprinted with each other's names. "It's not easy when…when you're imprinted so young. I, uh, I don't think I ever told you this, Kurt, but when me and your mom first got imprinted – and we were only twenty-one, you know – we didn't move in together for almost a year."

Kurt hadn't known how to feel about that revelation. He hadn't known that there'd ever been doubt in his parents' minds – perhaps even a doubt similar to what he was feeling now. Was he supposed to take a naïve comfort from that? Should he choose to believe that one day he and Sebastian could live together happily, somehow managing to salvage pieces from an unsalvageable beginning?

He didn't think he could believe that, not really – so what was he supposed to feel about his parents' match?

"I guess what I'm saying," Burt had continued after a minute of silence, "is that you shouldn't feel pressure to… to be anything. Every match has their own timeline, their own way of figuring things out. Obviously, this isn't easy for you – being so early, and the news stories…" He trailed off, and Kurt hugged into him closer. "But thing is… you just gotta trust the system, Kurt. The two of you are going to be happy in the long run, I promise."

And Kurt had burrowed his face into his father's shoulder, breathing in the all-too-familiar scent of his cologne, wishing that it had been comfort rather than disappointment that was currently spreading through his chest.

"Feel any better, kiddo?"

"Yeah, Dad," he'd lied.

The stories never did end up resurfacing. Kurt spent most of the weekend in his room, alternating between staring at his phone and staring at the ceiling, thoughts running restlessly through his head.

His father seemed to think he and Sebastian would be happy in the long run – seemed to take it for granted that Kurt would end up with the soulmate to whom he was matched. And that was well and good, except it all sounded a little too much like those superficial advice columns clogging his online searches, and he could almost hear Sebastian's derisive snort.

And now there was a matter of the other piece of advice his father had given him – _you just gotta trust the system._ From the moment Sebastian's name had appeared on Kurt's arm, Kurt had resisted doing just that, had been prepared to raise a seven-nation army to convince the system that it was wrong.

But now, with the sole objective of his efforts currently refusing to call or text him, wouldn't it make sense to just… go with it all? Trust the system, as his father said?

It was certain he and Sebastian wouldn't be together while they were in high school, and most likely not during college either, but they weren't supposed to be matched until they were close to thirty, anyhow. Surely, thirteen-some years from now Sebastian would be done with his philandering and brooding, and Kurt would have had time to move on from Blaine. With steady jobs and realistic plans, they could settle down together in a decent New York apartment and a reasonably content existence.

Quite honestly, it was also a matter of alternatives – Kurt didn't really see any. He couldn't look up videos of the protests and marches anymore. He didn't personally know any incorrect matches, and if the Media disaster had shown him anything, it was how little he understood about the trappings of the internet.

So perhaps that was that – the decision was made for him. He would talk to Blaine when he went back to school (by Monday, he hoped, because being in this self-imposed isolation was starting to drive him insane), he would talk to Sebastian (as unreceptive as he was bound to be), and then he would just let things unravel, in the way the CODE had predicted was most statistically probable.

Except even in that moment, Kurt couldn't fully convince himself that his plan seemed very likely.

* * *

From the moment he walked into the main corridor, with students milling around lazily before first period, Kurt could already feel everyone's eyes on him.

It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling from the days at his old school, but it was an unfamiliar one at Dalton, where he'd felt accepted and safe from almost the first day (as much to do with the zero-tolerance policy as with soft hazel eyes and a sweet grin). The stares weren't necessarily unfriendly or hostile, just… curious. Interested. Kurt was the news of the week, and everyone suddenly wanted to catch a glimpse of him.

Briefly, Kurt wondered how Sebastian was faring, and then immediately felt stupid for it – surely, Sebastian would be soaking up the attention, using it as a chance to demean every innocent onlooker that went near him.

"Hey, Kurt." Nick and Jeff had appeared in front of him, wearing twin expressions of bashfulness.

"How have you been?" Jeff was the first to pipe up, while Nick shifted awkwardly beside him.

"Oh, you know…" Kurt said, and then trailed off, because they probably didn't know, and, to be honest, neither did he. "I'm… fine, I guess."

"We missed you at the movies last week," Nick said, to which Jeff nodded in emphatic agreement, "but we figured you wanted to be alone to…" Nick bit his lip, and an awkward silence stood between them within the filler noise of the hallway.

"What does it look like?" Jeff burst out unexpectedly, only to follow it with a sheepish "Sorry," when Nick elbowed him in the side. Kurt felt his cheeks color immediately.

Even though his imprint had almost finished its healing, Kurt could already tell it would never become the smooth, unmarred flourish of an imprint that was on Sebastian's arm; the skin would always be slightly puckered, slightly scarred – slightly off. For a brief moment Kurt considered showing it to them, warts and all ("Not all it's cracked up to be, huh, kids?"), but decided to take pity.

"How you'd expect, I guess."

"I, um, I haven't seen Sebastian this morning," Jeff started again. "Is he, um…" There was an even more awkward pause while he seemed to be searching for a question that didn't sound too prying. Kurt decided to save him the trouble.

"I have to get to class," he cut him off firmly, clutching his bag closer to him - there was no way in divine hell that he was prepared to face questions about his and Sebastian's relationship status at the moment anyhow. "Sorry."

"Oh, ok, yeah," Jeff said, immediately looking guilty.

"Look, Kurt," Nick broke in, "if you need to talk about, you know, anything – "

"Will do," Kurt called back, already maneuvering around them. He heard the vestiges of Nick lecturing Jeff about having a filter as he ducked into his empty first period classroom, twenty minutes early. He spent the time before lecture started simply staring at a single page in his textbook, mind focusing on anything and everything but the actual words.

By the time he stood up to move to his second period, his heart had begun pounding erratically, because it would be the first time seeing _him_ since the news story broke.

Already settled in his own seat, Kurt felt more than saw Blaine slide into the seat next to him, and what he meant to be a furtive side-glance turned into a full-on stare. He could see that Blaine's cheeks were faintly pink, and that his eyes were trained pointedly forward, even when he reached to pull a notebook from his bag. Finally, Kurt couldn't take the apprehension anymore.

"Blaine?" he said tentatively, and when he received no reaction, repeated it a little louder. "Blaine?"

After a prolonged moment, Blaine finally turned his head; his expression was nothing like Sebastian's – and the fact that he'd begun comparing people to Sebastian bothered Kurt more than he was willing to admit – in that as much as he was clearly trying to hide his emotions, Blaine was failing miserably. His cheeks had become stained an even deeper shade of pink, his mouth was pushed together into a thin, depressed line, and his eyes were quivering with flashes of hurt and anger.

"Yes, Kurt?" Blaine said coldly and formally, and Kurt felt his heart break clean in two at the way Blaine had pronounced his name. Kurt had thought that he'd imagined all of the worst-case scenarios – Blaine being distant with him, Blaine being unhappy for him, Blaine being _happy_ for him – but Blaine being angry was a form of torture that hadn't even occurred to Kurt, particularly without any idea of a godly reason why.

"I…" All of Kurt's prepared words had escaped his mind, and he felt his breath slowly leaving his lungs. "How… how was the movie?"

"Good," Blaine said shortly, and then jerkily turned to face forward again. Kurt did the same, balancing his breath in order to hold back the pinprick of tears. He'd thought speaking to a cold Sebastian was brutal – as it turned out, being cold-shouldered by someone that you loved was a hundred times worse.

The rest of the class period was a buzz in Kurt's ears, and on the worksheet he had to fill out, the words had blurred into meaningless smudges, so that by the time the bell rang, he still found himself staring at an empty page.

A pair of unpolished loafers indicated that Mr. Hines had come up beside him. Kurt looked up, prepared to launch into a defense, but Mr. Hines simply shook his head. "It's all been explained to me, Hummel. Take as much time as you need."

Kurt didn't need to guess which blond, ever-tranquil someone had done the explaining, but he gratefully took the pass anyway, stuffing the notebook and worksheet into his bag and looking (rather masochistically) over to the desk on his right, which was already vacant.

The next few classes were pointless filler to his day; each of the teachers, with varying degrees of sympathy, gave him the notice that he was excused from responsibility until further notice, and he took advantage of that by paying absolutely no attention in his classes.

Instead, he played and replayed a hundred past conversations with Blaine, as well as a hundred imaginary ones, trying in vain to rationalize to himself Blaine's anger.

The ring of the bell signaled the end of fourth period without Kurt having drawn any helpful conclusions, other than the fact that he likely couldn't bear to spend lunch at his usual table, with all of his friends – and Blaine.

Resolving to collect a lunch and then head into an empty class, he started his way to the cafeteria. It wasn't strictly allowed, being unaccompanied in a classroom, but he assumed he needn't worry about getting into trouble, considering the circumstances (and the unrequested protection of Ms. July).

Walking to the dining room, Kurt began to notice that in addition to the stares, students were giving him a wide berth in the corridors, dodging out of his way before they were even in it. He couldn't definitively say why, but if he had to guess, it had less to do with his matching and more to do with who he was matched to.

Students were skating around him with a newfound reverence, which likely meant they were either worried about Sebastian's wrath if they crossed Kurt (how little they knew) or assumed, being his soulmate, that Kurt was more like Sebastian than they'd initially thought. Neither of those was a particularly pleasant thought for Kurt, and so he tried to compensate by smiling kindly at everyone who passed him.

That smile all but evaporated when he turned into the main hallway and laid eyes on Sebastian, leaned lazily against the wall of lockers, in relaxed conversation with Hunter.

Hunter was a transfer student at Dalton who was in some ways very similar to Sebastian, and in others, much, much worse. He'd rarely if ever interacted with Kurt, but with the aggressive way he talked down to others, and how prone his temper was to ending in violence, Kurt had always been extremely wary of him. Sebastian might bark, but Kurt was fairly certain Hunter would bite.

He'd seen the two of them talking or going out together on occasion, but in general Hunter was surrounded by his none-too-bright preppie goons, while Sebastian tended to keep more to himself, à la 'lone wolf.'

Kurt wished he could make a full one-eighty, taking the roundabout way to the cafeteria through the common room instead, but he was already too far in, and he needed to drop his books in his locker, anyhow. There was no alternative but to keep walking, conscious of people's heads darting back and forth between him and Sebastian.

Kurt knew the exact moment that Sebastian caught Kurt's presence out of the corner of his eye, because he stood a little straighter, folding his arms and suddenly letting his voice carry loudly above the other students.

" – what you think, Clarington? While you're busy striking out with Carmen, I'm heading to Scandals tonight, where the sex is always guaranteed – specialty is hot and desperate." Sebastian's smirk turned more into a leer, and Kurt knew the words were exclusively directed at him now, though Sebastian's eyes were still on Hunter.

"You do _not_ get laid as often as you say you do," Hunter said boorishly, shaking his head while Sebastian leaned further down against the wall of lockers, still towering above Hunter.

"You know, I met my soulmate at Scandals the other night," Sebastian said unexpectedly, eyebrow raised, eyes gleaming with mischief and wickedness. Hunter stared at him blankly, and Kurt felt his own eyebrows knit together in confusion, unsure of what to expect.

"Unfortunately," Sebastian continued in his usual drawl, "we broke up about twenty minutes later." Hunter's crass, braying laugh, mixed with Sebastian's dry chuckle, betrayed the conversation's true purpose, made especially obvious since Hunter had finally noticed Kurt's presence and was sneering at him.

And Kurt would have probably felt a jarring sting of hurt, would have shot back a cold, prim response, if only his mind hadn't suddenly been elsewhere, thoughts tumbling haphazardly at an unexpected epiphany. He only had enough awareness to note that people were still staring, and to absently register that Sebastian's smirk had turned to a scowl at Kurt's impassiveness. _Not so fun when the roles are reversed, is it? _Kurt thought absently, even though most of his mind was now occupied with Sebastian's words and their unintended implications.

Kurt had already had time to arrive in the lunchroom before he came fully back to his surroundings, picking up a plate and tray and beginning to load them with food. His tray properly filled, Kurt somehow managed to convince himself that it would be a good idea to take one final look at the table where Blaine and his other friends were currently settling down for lunch.

It was not a good idea. He felt a horrible pang of loneliness and heartache, mainly because of how normal it all looked, how quickly the gap he'd vacated only a few days ago had been closed off. He knew, deep down, that if he came over at that moment to sit with them, it would reopen just as easily, but it still hurt to see how natural and happy their group looked without him.

Blaine, at least, didn't look happy – he stared sullenly down at his food, picking at it without engaging in any of the conversations – and that fact simultaneously gave Kurt hope and depressed him.

Swallowing against the lump in his throat, he forced himself out of the cafeteria and ducked into his _Com-Hist_ classroom, which he knew was empty during fifth period lunch. He set down his tray and slid into a desk, relieved to finally be alone with his thoughts and with the seed – the tiny germ of an idea – that had begun growing in his head.

Kurt knew that Scandals was the place that Sebastian went for his…_encounters_, he would call them – he'd heard Sebastian flippantly discussing it before, usually to the awe of impressionable freshmen. But something about Sebastian mentioning Scandals and soulmates in the same sentence had tripped a circuit breaker in Kurt's brain, dredged up something else Sebastian had revealed to him not so long ago.

_Half the people in there already have their soulmate marks, _Sebastian had said angrily in the dorm hall that night (and no, Kurt hadn't played and replayed their conversation in his head a nauseating amount of times). _They come there because they're miserable fucking people who don't give a shit about their soulmates_.

So, the people who went there were unhappy. Alright. Surely that meant that at least some of them had actual incorrect matches, that at least some of them, like the people in the videos, had a legitimate reason to ignore their imprinting (Kurt still had trouble grasping the idea that the rest of them must have chosen to cheat on their correctly matched soulmates).

So, what that meant, in the simplest of terms, was that Kurt had found a way out of his dead end.

If he could get enough supporters, convince enough people to demand that their matches be reviewed, he might actually get somewhere. He didn't feel particularly confident that he would make any progress with Ms. July, but with enough people behind him, Kurt figured he could go to an even higher authority, anyhow – someone in the local government, or an engineer that worked directly on the CODE.

Then again, having a lead didn't mean he necessarily had to take it. There was always the alternative he'd decided on earlier: accepting everything the way it was and letting things unravel of their own accord.

Kurt tried to picture it for a moment, _really_ tried to picture it – a white-picket-fence life with Sebastian, accessorized with two children and a dog, filled with cozy dinners and warm weekend trips to the lake. He tried to imagine coming home to him every night, hugging him, kissing him hello, tucking in the girls to bed together.

Kurt tried, and found himself failing miserably. Sebastian just wasn't the person you imagined settling down with. He was the person you imagined having a spontaneous trip to Paris with, a passionate summer fling with (not that Kurt had ever considered either of those things), but he wasn't _the one_, he wasn't the be all and end all, he wasn't… well, he just wasn't Kurt's soulmate.

Kurt had never been happy waiting for things to happen (Blaine had been the one exception to that, and even then, just barely). He didn't think he could wait thirteen years for some uncertain future, and more importantly, he didn't think Sebastian would wait at all.

So, really, that decided it, then, didn't it?

Despite his inherent disgust with what the place symbolized, Kurt would have to visit Scandals, and imagining it now, he couldn't help but feel it was a bit like a lamb going to the slaughter.

_No, not a lamb, Hummel, _he could almost hear Sebastian correcting him in his standard drawl. _You're a Bambi, remember?_


End file.
